


Sortie

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Upon Further Review [41]
Category: Tron (1982), Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010), Tron: The Next Day (2011)
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8572675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: (Originally for tephlan on Tumblr, now archived on the AO3.)Everyone hates tax time.





	

 The whole floor was a war zone.

Clusters of desks had been pushed together, into contained, vaguely box-shaped islands, with plants and cork boards and all manner of office paraphernalia pulled over the enclosed spaces like improvised roofs. Pencils were stuck haphazardly in the holes on the ceiling tiles, and even as Alan watched, one of them fell into an open space left in the roof of one of the desk islands, prompting a soft “ow” into the otherwise still air.

Alan pushed a filing cabinet aside so he could step onto the floor. “What in the –?”

A head poked out from one of the nearer islands; it was Roy, because of course it was.

“Hey, Alan,” he greeted cheerfully, then ducked his head back down into the desk fort.

“What are you doing?” Alan couldn't help but ask, navigating a minefield of paper balls and airplanes until he could look down into Roy's hidey-hole.

“'War were declared',” he quoted back with a grin, mostly curled into a ball and folding paper airplanes. There was someone else hidden away in there, too; if Alan remembered correctly, she was one of the senior HR interns. Nguyen, maybe?

Alan looked around at the seemingly-empty floor. “Against whom?”

“Against tax prep stress,” Nguyen replied – Alan felt vaguely guilty he didn't know her first name, but knew that knowing everyone's name was unreasonable in a company the size of ENCOM – then she handed over her supply of paper airplanes to Roy.

“Oh really,” Alan kept his tone deceptively mild, while giving Roy an expectant look.

“Stress levels were getting high, so we figured it was time for a break,” Roy explained, expression serious but not defensive. He didn't feel the need to justify himself.

Frankly, Alan didn't feel Roy needed to, either, except –

“Who's we?”

With the sort of perfect timing that only happened on accident, something light bounced off the back of Alan's head.

He turned around just in time to see Sam finish high-fiving the VP of Human Resources in another desk fort on the other side of the room, then duck out of sight.

Absently toeing the finely crafted paper airplane aside – one wing had a chart printed on it that he recognized from a meeting last week, so it looked like their ammunition was the paperwork waiting to be shredded and recycled next Wednesday – and grinned crookedly.

“Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah?” Alan could see the grin starting to grow on Roy's face.

“Room for one more in there?”

Roy whooped with glee. “Get in here.”

As if that was some cue, heads started poking out of several desk forts, leading hands full of paper airplanes, and Alan made a not-very-dignified scramble for cover as the whole floor broke out in chaos.


End file.
